When Clint had asked if he had warned Odin of Thanos’ plans to attack Asgard and steal the weapons from the vault, Loki had answered by explaining that he knew nothing about Thanos that might help to resist him. However, when Clint insisted that “forewarned was forearmed,” Loki compromised by promising to tell Queen Frigga. He did not want to waste any more time talking about Thanos, or anything else for that matter – his time on Midgard was precious, and he wanted to spend as much of it as possible joined to Clint’s body.

Clint seemed satisfied by his promise, but instead of deepening the kiss Loki had initiated, he suddenly got out of bed and went to the door.

“Clint?” Loki called, shocked and concerned.

“Just checking to see if the Captain stopped by yet,” Clint reassured him. Opening the door, he retrieved the grocery bag that had been hanging on the doorknob. “Yup. I figured.”

Loki sat up in bed and watched curiously as Clint returned to him, looking through the selection of flavors.

“Here, try this one,” Clint said, handing him a package. Familiar with Midgardian food wrappings from his last stint, Loki tore the end open and bit the chocolate-colored confection. “What do you think?” the archer asked.

“It’s sweet,” Loki said, “but I prefer the chocolate you procured for me in Geneva.”

“Well yeah, that was the good stuff,” Clint admitted. “I don’t think I can find anything half as good around here. Let me make you some coffee, at least; there should be a coffeepot in here somewhere…”

Loki continued chewing small bites, having realized that he was hungry after all. And watching Clint rummage through the cupboards of the kitchenette, searching for the coffeepot – doing it for him – was gratifying. A minute later Clint pulled out a water heating pot and, with a grin of triumph, a box of decaffeinated teabags. Loki smiled back as his lover set about brewing it for him. It felt wonderfully domestic, even idyllic, to have Clint fussing over him and worrying about the baby’s nutrition. Almost as though they were a real family.

Loki could not help thinking of his cell on Asgard as he looked around the room, which was slightly larger and more comfortably furnished, even if those furnishings were square and utilitarian. The kitchenette was small but functional, and the bathroom behind it was also small but adequate. Most importantly, the walls were solid, affording privacy (or at least so Loki thought). The wearisome thing about his cell was that it was a fishbowl in effect; all of his “friends,” as he called the prisoners in the neighboring cells, as well as the guards, could look in and watch him at any moment of the day or night. Even masturbating had to be done by stealth under the bedcovers if he did not want an audience.

The part he hated most was showering. As fastidious as Loki was, he had opted to clean himself by magic many times because the corner of his cell that converted into a shower was directly across the hallway from a Nidavellian Dwarf who had been imprisoned for raping and murdering countless young Dwarves. The first time Loki had showered, he had turned to see the Dwarf leering at him, pulling on his thick, grotesque cock in obvious pleasure. Feeling nauseated, Loki had managed to put up a curtain of steam to obscure himself from the lecherous observer, but since then he had tried to shower when the Dwarf was asleep. At least when using the privy, he was allowed to use a curtain.

When Clint brought him a steaming mug of tea to wash down the sticky-sweet bar, then settled into bed beside him with an arm around Loki’s waist, the trickster god thought how infinitely better this was than his cell. Seeing his wistful smile, Clint drew even closer to kiss his cheek.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he remarked.

Loki took another sip of tea before replying. “I was just thinking… how nice it would be… if I could stay here forever.” His lips quirked in an attempt to smile that failed. “Even if I never stepped foot outside of this room, if I could be with you… I would be happy.”

Clint gazed at him for a moment before leaning his forehead against his lover’s. “It grates on you… being locked up, doesn’t it?”

Loki snorted in lieu of a laugh. “Actually, no – I have everything I need, Mother brings me plenty of books to read, and I prefer my own company to that of idiotic Æsir warriors. But my cell… the walls are transparent, so anybody can look in. I feel like some rare monster put on exhibit for all to see… much like the beasts in your Midgardian zoos.” Loki waved a hand at their surroundings. “This… could be made very comfortable with a few improvements. But best of all, it affords us privacy – we could make love all night if we wished to.”

Loki directed a coy smirk at Clint, which the other man correctly interpreted to be an invitation. While Loki set his half-empty mug of tea on the bedside table, Clint crawled down under the covers to start licking and sucking Loki’s lengthening cock.

Nick Fury, observing and listening from the control room, felt no remorse for spying on them – only mild relief that the manacles on Loki’s wrists appeared to be functioning as intended. He glanced at a smaller monitor to the side which showed an angled view of a bed in another bedroom: Steve Rogers’ bedroom, where he and Dr. Bruce Banner were engaged in their own passionate lovemaking. Fury huffed. He hoped those pheromones weren’t catching, but he was also tempted to have the facility’s water supply tested. At least Tony Stark had finally fallen asleep in the lab, with his feet propped up on a desk, after tinkering around for hours.

Little did Fury know that Tony had hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s surveillance system again and was simply watching the live feed from Loki’s room. Tony found the two lovers’ heart-to-heart talks boring, but he did take note of Loki’s comments regarding Thanos. He wondered if he could create a weapon using flerovium as Frigga had suggested; he wondered more whether such a weapon would be of any use against a being so powerful that even Loki feared him, but he was determined to at least try.

Thor stepped out into the small back yard of Jane’s apartment, having left her sleeping peacefully in bed. He needed to clear his thoughts, to sort through his complicated feelings for Loki. He had long denied having any untoward desires for his brother, telling himself his affection was purely fraternal, but after sensing such strong jealousy within himself over how Clint Barton was relating to Loki, Thor had to admit that he was, at least in part, still in love with the mischievous demigod.

The realization that he might have fathered a child with Loki – that in fact it had been a very close thing – gave him pause. If Loki had not been so thorough in cleaning up his seed after their coupling, or if they had not been found out and had continued to mate, eventually Loki would have become pregnant with Thor’s child. Would Odin have revealed the truth of Loki’s parentage then? Would the All-Father have allowed his two boys to continue what had started as an incestuous relationship – perhaps even allowed them to marry? Thor sighed. It was all useless conjecture now, but he could not stop his racing mind or even change its direction.

He imagined what it might have been like to have Loki as his lover – openly, without shame, for all of Asgard to see. Loki’s clever tongue had grown sharper towards Thor after Odin had forbidden them from coupling with each other; Thor had always assumed it was because he had shamed his brother in the eyes of their father and Loki was angry with him for having continually pressured him to give in to his lust. If Odin had not berated them like he had, shouting how disgusted and disappointed he was in them, would Loki not have grown so bitter and distant? If he had known that what they had done was not shameful, and if it had not lessened their father’s opinion of them, would he have embraced Thor’s love, perhaps, and consented to be his consort? Might he have grown up to be a happier man?

“We were so very young,” Thor thought. How would Loki have reacted to the news that he was pregnant? He had been shocked enough to hear it when he had; how much worse would it have been back then, when he was still a young boy – when he also would have been told, for the first time, that he was Jötun? The fact that he was adopted would have been welcome news to Thor, for it meant they had not committed true incest, but for Loki it would have been devastating.

“I would have helped him through it,” Thor mumbled to himself. “I would have let him know… he was not alone…”

The thunder god was startled when Jane plopped down beside him.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.

“No,” Thor replied.

“What’s the matter?”

“I was thinking… of all the different paths our lives might have taken.” He looked up at the unfamiliar Midgardian stars. “Only a few steps to one side or the other, a few choices made differently, and the outcome might have been… worlds apart.”

“If I had not angered Loki with my recklessness,” he added to himself, “he would not have disrupted my coronation… I would not have attacked Jötunheim… I would not have been exiled… I would not have met Jane.”